Ilarion exhaled slowly, letting his eyes drift downward, slightly, until they rested on Oleksei's face.
Taras' hand was enjoyably heavy on his leg; Lasha could feel the heat of his broad palm through the fine veneer of silk.
He reached out, slowly, cupping the back of the Captain's head in a leisurely fashion.
"Serve me," he whispered.
Lasha drew him forward, keeping his gaze obscure, but his intent heavy beneath.
"Adore me."
His back was supple, relaxed and conforming to the wingbacked chair, his posture receptive and sensual. He felt the cashmere robe loosen as he moved, falling away from his body slightly.
Ilarion found himself anticipating Oleksei's formidable weight with some degree of erotic expectation.
"Because you want to."
The last words were dark, and sounded only on the very edges of his breath.
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Taras' hand was enjoyably heavy on his leg; Lasha could feel the heat of his broad palm through the fine veneer of silk.
He reached out, slowly, cupping the back of the Captain's head in a leisurely fashion.
"Serve me," he whispered.
Lasha drew him forward, keeping his gaze obscure, but his intent heavy beneath.
"Adore me."
His back was supple, relaxed and conforming to the wingbacked chair, his posture receptive and sensual. He felt the cashmere robe loosen as he moved, falling away from his body slightly.
Ilarion found himself anticipating Oleksei's formidable weight with some degree of erotic expectation.
"Because you want to."
The last words were dark, and sounded only on the very edges of his breath.